Block the Wind Festival 2017


Block the Wind Festival is back for 2017! This year, we’ll be setting up camp at One Longfellow Square in Portland, ME. We’re hoping for this year to be the biggest yet, so if you’re in the area on August 13th, head over to see local musicians and artists show off their talents. Also stay tuned for new merchandise coming in the coming weeks!

A Thought about Death

There are many things I think of with death.

primarily sadness, burden and anger

sometimes happiness, relief and thankfulness

usually not.


right before I die will I think “do I regret my life? Did I live life to the fullest?”

as my heart slows, “did I do everything I want to do with the people I wanted to do it with?”


i often fear I’ll die alone.


sounds empty, scary

alone in a crumpled ball on the side of the road

alone in the waves of a current I can’t escape

alone in a hospital bed strapped to beeping machines and fluorescent screens

death is a lonely process anyways,

you do it by yourself and nobody else knows what to do

hopelessly watching as your vision goes darker,

your limbs numb,

your hearing fades


I hope I’m not a burden

if I cannot hear, see,

or have a feeding and breathing tube…

just finish me










Most of all though,

i hope I am missed

i hope I impacted people

i hope I come up in dinner conversations,

“hey remember when Ethan…”

“hey remember when Dad…”

“hey remember when Grampy…”


when i I think about it,

its not literally death that scares me.

Or the pain or suffering that comes

from the Grim Reaper.


but all the components that come after

and how it affects my loved ones.


curiosity killed the cat

but what happens after?


now that’s something to think about.


It’s hard to think that

everything just ends.

lights out.


all over.


but alternatives seem

sometimes unlikely

even though they are much more tranquil, happy, lavish


I would like to believe them

but sometimes I just can’t.


it’s just hard for someone who

is constantly being to finally go



and then buried 10 feet under

in an overpriced box

with maggots as neighbors

and then left there to rot.


i want to believe there is something more.


all this build up

all these experiences in life

all this wisdom

all these loving connections

just to be shut off and thrown away.


There has to be something more,


Burdens of Social Media

My phone used to vibrate

***New Message***

and my heart would beat

harder, faster,

with more feeling.


Now my phone is silent.


Now I see

videos of you

but my heart doesn’t beat faster.


Instead my stomach feels heavy.

….I feel sick.



Being force-fed

the reality

that you are happier now.


Without me.

Sneaker Concepts – Part 1

Changing Places, Changing Faces, Changing Times

You think

after only a few months,

things wouldn’t change.


You are wrong.


Things do change.



how people act and dress

how much a person drinks

what a person may eat

who they are and aren’t flirting with


relationships between friends

friends relationships between other friends.

preferences of who to talk to,

of who to fuck.


is it cool now

or was it cool then


how much?

how often?

how come?





uninteresting conversations with people who

barely noticed you being gone.


casual bullshit that gets you through the day.


“Just keep plugging away.”

“Just keep swimming hard.”

“Just keep having fun.”


“It’ll all work out.”


they speak to you




“How are you?”

Only half listening, eyes looking around as you respond


and only to be cut off

some current gossip filling the space.

God I’m fucking 21.  Why do I still deal with this shit?

Who cares who is with who.

Keep to yourself

The only reason you talk about others is because you


are indeed fucked.

YOU have something to hide.


To be honest,

i don’t think other things change.


I think it is just me.

I am the one who changed.


I don’t care for certain things,

for certain people.


My temper is easily triggered,

My patience is short.


I am unhappy.  At least I think I am.


And the worst part is

I don’t know why.


I have a great life.

Good set up.

Great family.

Friends who have my back.

Beautiful school.

I eat every meal.

I sleep well every night.


I think I am just tired.

Missing the warm weather

and the feeling of the salt water in my hair.


The music blasts as I write this

this train of thought

this stream of consciousness


“I need you…I want you…”

HA but who?

I couldn’t tell you.


I am not alone.

Many feel this way.

There is something empty.


“Yeah there is this one girl but like I don’t know…”


“Yeah she is that her boyfriend? he is a big boy…”


“Oops, I didn’t know he was actually a SHE…”


Others look upon.


Those of us who can’t find

who can’t settle with one partner

just have holes in our hearts.


we have been changed

and we are waiting for someone,

and eventually they will come,

to change us again.


They will come with open arms

and stitch the whole closed

then kiss it as it heals


and it won’t scar.

it won’t make a mark.

it won’t change you.


Well you will be changed.

I will be changed.

But she will make me better.


We will make each other better.



Riding the Bus to Campus

I spend at least 40 minutes a day on the bus.


I look out and see beautiful girls.

Some wear dresses with black tights, blonde hair hanging over their shoulders.

Others have their hair up and sprint past the bus, leggings ranging in patterns and colors.

The denim jackets of some hang loosely over their pale colored sweatshirts.

Tattoos creep out of sleeves and show through their transparent shirts.’



Yet, none of them are as beautiful as you.


I hear them speak on their phones and with each other in tongues familiar and foreign.

They smile at me sometimes when they get on the bus.

I usually smile back.

I can feel the fixed look of some looking at me,

and I sometimes find myself catching their gaze, like a deer in headlights.

Makes me giggle to myself as I turn my music up louder.


But there is only one that I can listen to forever,

only one who has a stare that makes butterflies flutter in my stomach.


As my sweating increases

and my headache continues,

I fight the hangover with a sip of water.


I taste something bitter in my mouth.

I close my eyes.


As my music plays

I can sometimes see you smiling to it.

And even sometimes singing to it too.


My eyes open to a cuddling couple.

His hand gently on her thigh

and her head on his shoulder.

He kisses her head.

Its’s brief and she continues to sleep

and he just sits there smiling.


We connect eyes and he sees my jealousy.

He easily sees it.


The whole bus could see it if they paid attention.

I remember doing the same.

Not on buses but in dorm rooms, kitchens, front of fires.


The smell of your hair and your taste

I have forgotten.


The girl’s eyes open as the bus stops hard at a red light

and she whispers something into his ear.

He kisses her.

They are in love.


I get off the bus.